Watching Over Me
by writeallnight
Summary: Don Eppes is fully capable of taking care of himself.  At least, that's what he thinks.  But a serious injury and a visit from someone he loves reminds him that his family is around for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, this story takes place during the Season 2 finale, "Hot Shot." It's my take on some of the moments missing from the episode. This first chapter takes place after Lindsey Fuller's been apprehended in the park. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it :)

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"If Lindsey's here, where is Chandler Yates?" Colby asked.

The three were standing in the park, trying to comprehend what had just happened. It was an understatement to say they had been surprised when the person they thought they were arresting turned out to be someone entirely different.

Megan shook her head. "I've got a bad feeling about this," she said worriedly. "If he knows we're on to him, he's going to run. And the possibility of him taking some girl with him is more than likely."

David turned and began walking toward the squad car holding their detainee. "Where are you going?" Colby called.

"She's the best chance we've got right? Yates must have told her something," David called back.

Megan and Colby exchanged glances and quickly followed.

David hauled the girl out of the car and sat her down on a bench. "Lindsey, where is Chandler Yates?" he asked.

She glared at the three of them. "Like I'd tell you. You're just going to go after him. He told me that you've been looking around. You have no right to do that!"

"Lindsey," Megan knelt in front of her. "Chandler Yates has killed two women and hurt dozens more. He could be hurting someone right now. We need to know where he is."

"You don't know him!" Lindsey cried. "Chandler would never hurt anyone. He's completely harmless."

"Lindsey, you're in a lot of trouble here," David tried. "We are going to find Chandler Yates; the only question is whether or not he's going to hurt someone else before then. If he does, you're going to be responsible for that. Is that what you want? To go to jail for helping out a rapist and a murderer?"

"Chandler has always been nice to me," Lindsey told them angrily. "You're lying. He said you'd lie."

"Lindsey, what possible reason would we have to lie to you?" Megan asked. "We're only trying to help here. Please tell us what you know."

The girl shook her head. "I want a lawyer."

Megan rose and the three retreated in defeat. "Well that's not going to work," Colby said. "What's Plan B?"

"We could go check out his home again," David suggested. "Maybe we missed something there the first time?"

"I don't think he'd go home," Megan said. "He knows we've been there, it's not safe for him anymore."

The radio squawked. "Team Leader requesting backup at 355 Parker Street. Code 3, assault in progress."

"Isn't that Lindsey Fuller's residence?" David said, his eyebrows rising. "What's Don doing there?"

Megan shook her head. "Whatever the reason let's go. He's there on his own," she told them.

The three separated, David and Colby to their vehicle and Megan to hers. It was a fifteen minute drive to the house but they weren't on the road five minutes when the dispatcher's voice came once again over the radio. "Agent down at 355 Parker Street. Requesting medical assistance."

Megan hit the gas her heart pounding. Her rearview mirror informed her that David had done the same. Their boss was in trouble and completely alone.

They beat LAPD and the EMT's to the house and there was no question of their waiting to go in. Megan took point as they moved toward the house. David caught her eye and motioned to the broken pane in the door. Megan nodded and they moved toward it. Once they got close they could hear frightened sobs coming from inside. Colby turned the doorknob and the three entered the room. A girl was duct-taped to a mattress and crying hysterically. David immediately went to work freeing her.

Megan knelt next to her. "What happened?" she asked quietly

"The FBI guy came in, and he ran after Chandler," the girl sobbed. "They went in the other room and I heard fighting and guns and nobody came back."

"Okay, you're safe now, you're going to be fine," Megan told her.

David finished freeing her and wrapped his jacket around her before taking her outside. Megan began to move after Colby who had already gone into the kitchen. "This is the FBI," Colby called. "Show yourself."

No response. "Don?" Megan called.

Still nothing. Megan's sense of dread was growing as they began to move out of the kitchen and down the hall. "Don?" Megan called again.

"Megan…"

The groan was weak, but it was there. The agents hurried forward and that was when they spotted the shattered vase on the floor and the bright lights from the bedroom. Megan's heart nearly stopped when she saw the two bodies on the floor. She went to her knees by Don while Colby checked on Chandler Yates. "Don, Don talk to me. Come on," she tapped his cheek none to gently in hope of getting a response.

"Yates is dead," Colby said, joining her. "What's wrong with him?"

Megan was checking Don's pulse. "I don't know. His head's bleeding a little and he's not breathing well."

Don's breathing was labored and his lips were taking on a bluish tint. "Is he hit?" Colby asked anxiously.

"No, I can't find anything," Megan said worriedly as she ran her hands over Don's body, searching for bullet wounds.

"Uh, Megan," Colby held up the nearly empty syringe in horror.

"Morphine," Megan said tersely, as she reached to radio David. "David, what's the status on that ambulance?"

"Two minutes," David said in reply.

"Tell them to step on it; we've got a morphine overdose here."

Don began choking. "Get him on his side," Megan ordered.

They were just in time as their boss vomited all over the floor. Colby felt for Don's pulse. "Megan, I'm not getting much of anything," he said urgently.

"Agent Reeves?" called a voice from the hallway.

"In here!" Megan yelled back.

Within seconds the EMT's were in the room and taking over. "Pinpoint pupils," one said, "pulse is weak."

The other accepted the syringe from Colby. "You said this had morphine in it?" he asked.

"It's consistent with our case," Colby told him.

"Clearly he vomited?"

"Yeah."

As they started oxygen and several IV's Don stirred. "Agent Eppes, can you hear me?" the second EMT asked.

He looked at them in obvious confusion. "Agent Eppes do you know where you are?"

Don shook his head slightly and then lapsed back into unconsciousness. "It's okay. This happens with morphine," the EMT told them. "Let's get him out of here."

"Go with him, Colby," Megan told the younger agent as they reached the driveway. "I'll call Alan and Charlie and we'll meet you at the hospital."

Colby nodded and climbed into the ambulance. David joined Megan in the driveway as the ambulance took off. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked.

Megan swallowed hard and shook her head. "I don't know."

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A/N: Reviews are much loved!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm nervous about uploading this chapter because I feel very strongly about it. I was disappointed when watching this episode that Don didn't get a moment with his mother, so I wrote one. Never in my life have I cried over my own work, but I bawled as I wrote this. I hope you feel the same.

* * *

Don opened his eyes and blinked against the sunlight streaming through the windows. He was lying on the couch at the Craftsman. He put a hand to his head and winced in pain. What was going on? What had happened? How had he gotten here? Try as he might he couldn't remember anything.

Too tired to move he simply looked around before calling out. "Dad? Charlie?"

No answer. Now he was getting frustrated. He struggled to sit up and then lay back with a groan when the world tilted and caused his head to pound.

"Be careful sweetheart."

Don's heart stopped and he stared at the figure walking across the room toward him.

"Mom?"

Margaret Eppes smiled as she pulled a chair next to the couch and took a seat. "Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

"Mom…" Don couldn't process what was happening. "What…how are you…I don't…"

"Shh. Just relax. You've had a rough day," Margaret told him.

She put a hand gently on his forehead and Don felt his throat tighten. He closed his eyes and it was some time before he was able to speak again. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

"Taking care of you, sweetie," she said tenderly.

"But you…I don't understand," his mind felt fuzzy.

"Don't try to understand, Donnie," she said softly. "You needed me, so here I am."

"Charlie…" Don tried to form coherent thoughts, "Charlie told me he dreamed about you."

"He did?" Margaret smiled. "That was very brave of him."

"He said…he was supposed to ask you a question."

"He is."

Don frowned. "He doesn't know what it is."

"He will."

"What if he-"

"Donnie, he'll know. This isn't something you can help him with."

Don shifted his position and the couch and winced as the pain in his skull intensified. "What happened to me?" he asked.

It was as if the events that had brought him to this place were right there, he just couldn't quite get hold of them. "You'll remember soon," his mother told him. "I have some things I have to tell you first."

"Okay," Don said.

She smiled and stroked his hair tenderly. "Do you remember when you were little and Charlie flooded the bathroom because he was experimenting?"

Don chuckled. "It leaked through the ceiling in the kitchen and left a giant stain."

"Do you remember what you said to me?"

Don thought for a moment. "I covered for him, didn't I? I told you that I left the water running and it was my fault."

"Yes you did. And after I punished both of you for lying to me," she winked, "I told you something. Do you remember what it was?"

Don met her eyes. "You said, 'Donnie, I'm proud of you for taking care of Charlie. The most important thing in the world is family. They always come first. And you always take care of them, no matter what.'"

Margaret took one of his hands in hers. "Donnie, I want to tell you how proud I am of you. You have worked so hard, and you have taken such good care of your father and Charlie. I could not have asked for a better son."

Don took a deep breath. "Mom, why did you leave us?"

"Oh, Donnie," her eyes filled with pain, "I didn't want to. But it was time."  
"If I," Don swallowed hard, "if I had come home sooner. Or, been home more, would you…"

"Donnie, Donnie," his mother said soothingly him, "it was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. Sweetheart, you have enough to worry about. Don't fret about things that were beyond your control."

She squeezed his hand. "Do you know what my favorite memory of you is?"

"What?" Don asked.

"You were four years old and you were playing out in the front yard with one of those little guns that your father bought for you. I was sitting on the porch and you ran up to me and told me that the bad guys were coming. I pretended that I was scared and you climbed into my lap and said to me, 'Don't worry, Mommy. I'll protect you.'"

"I remember," Don said quietly.

"I always knew you'd grow up and help people. And look at you now. Such a handsome man, always taking care of everybody else," she paused. "Donnie, you have to let other people take care of you sometimes."

"Mom, you know I'm not good at that."

"I know. You're a strong man. But sometimes you have to let someone else watch out for you. Promise me."

Don swallowed. "I promise."

She patted his hand. "Good boy."

She cleared her throat and touched his cheek. "I have to go now, Donnie."

"Can I go with you?" Don asked, like a lost child.

"Not this time. Charlie and your father still need you too much."

"Please," Don felt tears come to his eyes, "please don't leave me."

His mother was crying too. "I have to, baby. But we'll all be together again soon. I promise."

Don closed his eyes as she kissed his forehead. "I love you, Donnie," she whispered.

Don's voice cracked as he spoke. "I love you too, Mom."

"Close your eyes."

Don did so, tears pouring down his cheeks. Immediately his chest tightened and the pain in his head intensified. There was a steady beeping sound somewhere nearby. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to figure out where he was. "Mom?" he croaked.

"Hey, Donnie."

Don turned his head and saw his father in a chair. He looked around at the white walls and ceiling, the machines that were becoming all too familiar. The hospital. "Oh crap," he said.

He struggled to sit up and his father hurried to help him. "Are you okay, Donnie?" Alan asked worriedly. "You're crying. Are you in pain?"

Don put a hand to his cheek and found it wet with tears. Feeling shaky and uncertain he couldn't answer immediately.

"Do you remember what happened?" Alan tried.

Images came flooding back. "Yates, Yates was in the house. He hit me in the head and then…the syringe," Don looked at his father. "Did I shoot him?"

His father's silence was answer enough. Don rubbed a hand across his face, fighting the raging headache that was hammering away at the inside of his skull. "What time is it?"

"About 6:30 in the morning," Alan said. "You've been out of it for nearly ten hours. You had us worried for a little while."

"Who's here?" Don asked, knowing at least one member of his team would still be waiting for him to wake.

"Megan. Are you sure you're up to it?" Alan asked with concern. "Maybe we should call the doctor first."

"No, I need to see her."

Alan left the room reluctantly and it wasn't long before Megan entered. "Hey boss," she said. "How ya feelin'?"

"I've been better," Don admitted, still reeling from what he had just experience. "Tell me what happened."

"We caught Lindsey Fuller in the park. Yates sent her. We were just wrapping up when we got the call. David took care of the girl and Colby and I went after you and Yates. You were pretty out of when we found you."

"Yates is dead?" Don asked, already knowing the answer.

"Five rounds, Don. You don't remember?" Megan asked concerned.

Don shook his head and then wished he hadn't. "Things are a little fuzzy."

"You had us really worried," Megan said truthfully. "You were unconscious and barely breathing. Then you vomited right before the paramedics got there."

Don grimaced. "Sorry."

"Lindsey's in custody and Mrs. Yates is coming to identify the body in the morning. The girl he kidnapped is fine; the paramedics gave her a clean bill of health."

Don leaned back against the pillows and exhaled slowly. "You all right?" Megan asked.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. And I've got this massive headache."

"He knocked you over the head pretty good. I think you've got a few stitches in there," she said sympathetically.

"I'll be in to give my statement as soon as I get out of here."

Megan was already shaking her head. "You are going home if they let you out of here at all. You can write your statement from there if you feel the need."

Don quirked a smile. "Who put you in charge?"

Alan poked his head in. "I did!"

Don rolled his eyes. "You would."

"Donnie, the doctor wants to see you. Are you two almost finished?" Alan asked.

"We're all set here, Mr. Eppes," Megan said. "Thanks for your patience."

"Thank you for waiting here all night," Alan said, then lowered his voice. "And you know you can call me Alan."

Megan smiled. "I know. Feel better, Don."

"Bye, Megan."

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A/N: So, yeah, any reviews would be appreciated. Thanks to those of you who have done so already!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So...sorry this took so long. This whole college thing really takes away from my free-time :) Anyways, this is the final chapter. Hope you enjoy!  


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Don wasn't released from the hospital until evening. Even then it was only because of pulled strings that he was allowed to leave at all. He'd had several visitors throughout the day, including his brother, but it was his father who remained with him the whole time. Don had been silent other than when he had visitors, and his father hadn't pressed him.

Now he was being escorted out of the hospital in a wheelchair, something he utterly despised. "All right, Agent Eppes, you feel better now," the nurse said cheerfully as they made their way outside.

"Thank you," Don said as he rose.

He took a step and then gripped his father's shoulder for support as the world tilted to an odd angle. "Easy, Donnie," Alan said quietly as he steadied his son.

"Are you all right, Agent Eppes?" the nurse asked worriedly. "Do you need to sit down?"

"No, no, I'm all right," Don said. "Just a little dizzy. I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" the nurse asked. "I could ask a doctor to come out."

"No, let's just go home," Don said.

"Maybe it's too soon, Donnie," his father said. "Are you sure you feel okay enough to leave?"

"Yeah I just-I need to go home, Dad," Don told him.

"All right," Alan said, "Let's go."

The drive to the Craftsman was very quiet. "You want to get something to eat?" Alan asked finally.

Don didn't answer.

"Donnie?"

"Hm?"

"You want something to eat?"

"Oh, no. I'm not hungry," Don said, becoming silent once more.

Alan let him stay that way until they pulled into the driveway. He turned off the car and looked at his son. "What's on your mind, Donnie?" he asked.

"It was just a long day," Don told him with a sigh.

"Donnie."

The agent finally looked his father in the eye.

"Be straight with me," Alan told him.

Don looked down at his hands. "I…had a dream about Mom."

Alan nodded. "There seems to be a lot of that going around."

"She said she…came to take care of me," Don told him.

"That sounds like your mother."

"She was gone, so fast," the agent said slowly, "I wasn't ready."

"None of us were, Donnie. It was incredibly unfair."

"I loved her, Dad," Don's voice broke, "I never really told her. Maybe if I had, none of this…"

"Donnie, nothing any of us did could have changed what happened. It just happened. That's the way life is," Alan said gently. "And Donnie, your mother knew you loved her and didn't want her to go. She wouldn't want you to blame yourself. But, she already told you that, didn't she."

Don looked at him. "Yeah, she did."

Alan smiled. "She loved you boys more than anything else. She was so happy when you came back from New Mexico. We were all together, and that's what she wanted. You didn't have to say it Donnie. You showed her you loved her enough to come home when it mattered."

Don shook his head. "Why is it so hard to believe that?"

Alan took a deep breath. "Because life is full of regrets, Donnie. For things we did do and things we didn't. You have to make a choice. You can't change the past, but you can choose to relive the good moments, and let the bad ones fade away. And we certainly have a lot of good moments to remember."

Don finally nodded. "Yeah, we do."

"Come on. You need to rest."

They made it into the house and then Don collapsed on the couch, utterly spent. He groaned and settled deep into the cushions. He should call his team. He reached for his cell-phone and then realized it was missing. "Dad?" he called as his father went to the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Did the hospital happen to give you my cell?"

Alan stuck his head out. "No. Why?"

"I can't find it."

"Maybe your team has it."

Don nodded. More likely it had been left at the scene, probably in pieces, and would be kept as evidence. He'd have to get a new one tomorrow. He rubbed a hand across his face. His head was pounding and all he wanted to do was sleep. Instead he forced himself up and into the kitchen. His father was making a sandwich. "Change your mind?" he asked his son. "I can make you one."

"Nah," Don went into the fridge and grabbed a beer.

Then he went out to the dining room, ready to write his statement. He hadn't been working ten minutes when Charlie came in, rubbing his eyes and ready for a serious discussion.

Don felt strange as his brother talked to him about their childhood. Because, yeah, he had felt that way growing up. Alone, abandoned, a little unloved. But tonight, for some reason, he didn't feel that way anymore. His parents loved him, Charlie loved him, he knew that. He had always known that.

Charlie's emotional speech was reaching a place that Don felt slightly uncomfortable about so he changed the subject to his paperwork. Then his Dad joined the party and before he knew it the paperwork was out of his hands and in theirs. "Donnie, are you drinking?" his dad asked suddenly.

Don looked at the bottle in front of him and knew he was caught.

"Give me that, give me that!" Alan insisted, swiping the bottle from his eldest child.

"Dad-" Don started to protest.

"You do not need alcohol right now," Alan informed him. "You have been through a serious trauma and you need to go to bed."

"What am I, five?" Don grumbled.

"No, Dad's right," Charlie chimed in. "We can take care of this. Go get some sleep, you look exhausted."

"So, the two of you," Don looked at them both, "are going to fill out my report for the FBI?"

"Yep," Alan said. "The sheets are clean. Go on."

"You changed the sheets for me?" Don asked.

"Of course," Alan said, "now go to bed."

Don smiled slightly and rose to do as he was told. As he reached the stairs he paused to watch his father and brother. He wasn't alone. His mother had guaranteed that. There would always be someone to watch over him. To watch over all of them.

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A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. Any final reviews would be appreciated. Happy New Year!


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